Carrot Orange Corn-Flour Waffles

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“The heart decides, and what it decides is all that really matters.” – Paulo Coelho

As a teenager, suffering through the angst of star-crossed infatuations, I ran. Though not a runner then, not adept at sports, without the proper shoes, I’d run the dirt paths behind the horse pasture, round the fields of corn and alfalfa, dodging animal tracks and farmers.  I’d often run away my worries, my frustrations, replacing them with a colorful imagination of the reality I wanted to exist.  In college, I learned from my phys ed prof, dubbed “Lance” by the farm boys in my class, that it takes five years to make a habit a lifestyle. Seven years later, I’m still running.  Running away my worries.  Running away my frustrations, gaining a better perspective, creating a new reality.

This last few months, running has been my guidebook.  Hours away from W for weeks at a time, too often feeling like an island of one, I’ve ran and made waffles.  And been humbled.  I have done things I didn’t think I could. I have stumbled and cried, been disrespected in small, countless ways, been left speechless. Hit roadblocks.  I have laughed uncontrollably.  I have pushed and stirred, over-analyzed, lost sleep, pulled a zillion gray hairs, and gone a bit mental.

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I’ve been encouraged and let down. Too often, of my own subconscious volition, I stood at the edge of a circle looking in. Wanting to both jump towards acceptance and run towards a calling I cannot explain.  Hours, weeks, months convincing myself to feel something that my heart long ago gave up.  Getting close to the end, I worry again.  I had a standard; did I uphold it?  Did I demand all that I should have?  Did I reach those that needed to be reached?  Was there real progress made?

At the end of the day when I’m less frustrated, when my run is complete, and those waffles have been devoured, I reach for a broader perspective.  In a tough position, I am making the most of it.  I could do more. But my heart has decided, and what it decides…is all that really matters.

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Carrot and Corn-Flour Waffles, adapted from Good to the Grain
Recipe Updated: 5/7/2012
Dry Mix:
3/4 cup corn flour or finely milled cornmeal
3/4 cup gf flour mix, or all-purpose flour
3 Tbs. ground flaxseed
1 1/2 Tbs. brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 1/2 tsp. ground ginger
1/4 tsp. salt
Wet Mix:
1/2 cup + 2 Tbs. (10 oz.) carrot juice, plus more if needed
1/2 cup + 2 Tbs. (10 oz.) orange juice, plus more if needed
1 1/2 Tbs. olive oil
zest of half an orange
1 egg
  • Turn the waffle iron on medium-high.  Adjust as needed as cooking progresses.
  • Sift the dry ingredients together in large bowl.  Set aside.
  • Whisk the wet ingredients together in a small bowl.  Pour the wet mixture into the dry mixture.
  • Brush the waffle iron with additional oil, as needed. Ladle out the batter and cook until fluffy and done.
  • If available, top with freshly picked strawberries and yogurt, and savor over a cozy spring meal.

Candied-Ginger Rhubarb Buckle

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“It takes three things to succeed at that higher level, Rebecca:  Intelligence, drive, and passion.  There is no doubt you have the first two.  But I question your passion.  You’ve haven’t shown a true interest in anything…”

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For the past three years, I have been almost-daily haunted by this statement from my major professor, stated during my masters defense.  After all this time, tossing ideas back and forth, wandering semi-aimlessly in the desert of post-college jobs, I finally can see the pieces coming into focus.   I’m slowly coming out of denial and attempting to own up to my dreams, my desires, yes, even my passions.

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The clouds and the mist are evaporating slowly.  The pieces are finally in focus.  This is who I am.  There’s a list of things that incite a fury of passionate opinion, cause a burst into dozens of directions, spinning my thoughts so fast the words cannot catch up.  Because I’m not one to want to stop once I’ve gotten started, I am longing to shove the remaining clouds out of my way, jam the puzzle pieces together  and get to living “passionately.”  Finally.

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The pieces won’t fit.   Fury, disenchantment, resentment.  The edges are all mismatched and wrong.  I know I’m getting there.  But the process is so blasted slow.  Come on, I’m thinking.  And then I return to the two mantras that continue to keep me going:  “Don’t push the river,” a Zen phrase.  And a piece of Fr Ignacio’s homily from years ago:  “When you ask and there’s no answer, just keep rowing.”   

Rowing. And rowing and rowing.  Waiting.  Listening.  Still here, doing the same.  Watching the seasons change.  Embracing each new one as it comes, trying to not focus on the speed of passing time and the status quo.  Meanwhile, I’ll make rhubarb buckle.  Candied ginger.  Spring.  Embracing one of those passions that three years ago, I was too afraid to share.  There’s progress, after all.

Candied-Ginger Rhubarb Buckle, adapted from Dishing Up Oregon
Recipe Updated: June 2022

For the Crumb:
1/4 cup gluten-free flour
1/4 sugar
1/4 cup finely chopped candied ginger
2 Tbs. raw coconut oil, melted

For the Buckle:
1 3/4 cups gluten-free flour
2 tsp. ground ginger
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 cup (4 0z.) raw coconut oil, softened slightly
1/2 cup sugar
2 eggs
3/4 cup non-dairy milk mixed with 1 tsp. white vinegar
3/4 lb. rhubarb, cleaning and sliced into 1/2-inch slices

  1. Make the candied ginger crumb.  Mix the flour, sugar, and candied-ginger into a small bowl.  Mix in the melted coconut oil with spoon until nice and crumbly.  Cover and chill in the fridge until ready to use.
  2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.  Coat a 9-inch round cake dish with a thin layer of oil.  Set aside.
  3. Make the buckle.  Whisk the flour, ginger, baking soda, baking powder, and salt together in a small bowl.  Set aside.
  4. Cream the remaining coconut oil together with the sugar, until light and fluffy.  Mix in the eggs.
  5. Add the milk and flour mixture, alternating between the two, until mixture is just combined.  Gently fold in the rhubarb.
  6. Spoon batter into the prepared cake pan.  Sprinkle the candied-ginger crumb evenly over the batter.  Bake until the top is golden and firm, about 45 minutes.  Cool approximately 30 minutes prior to serving.

Olive-Raisin Roasted Cauliflower

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Standing over the cutting board, slicing olive flesh off the pits, I am drawn to contemplation once more.  My heart has felt heavy these last few weeks. For me, late winter has typically been a time of drawing in, folding the blankets of life around me, closing the curtains, blocking out drafts.  For whatever reason, this time of year leads me to risk less, to soak in my quiet hours of solitude, to ignore phone calls and invitations.  I have fallen into this pattern once more, and am in need of getting out of my head, putting my energy to use on a cause less related to my own.  I am reminded of my current tasks, the most important to listen for answers, though the urgency of the everyday often fiddles the knobs on my ears and speeds up the actions of my feet.

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Yesterday was a warm and sunny late-winter afternoon. School was finally out for the week, spring break just around the corner. Ready for some dialing in to the right listening frequency and slowing down of the feet, I longingly looked out the window, ready to feel the sun.

One of my students walked in and in the space of only a few minutes, a forceful acknowledgement fell suddenly into my lap.

There are lives more challenged; basic needs going unmet. My own circle of worries bumps into other circles that are stretched further, weighted far heavier than my own.

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In this moment, I willingly set aside my worries of the day-to-day. I set aside the fact that I cannot control the actions and decisions of others. I’m drawn back to focus on listening. Though I wish it weren’t so, these things, tough situations for undeserving people, happen for a reason.

Time, patience, understanding. Smoothing the blankets. Opening the curtains to let in the light, thoughts flow brighter filtered through golden rays.

There it is, spring is on it’s way.

Olive-Raisin Roasted Cauliflower, adapted from Plenty

Juice from half an orange
1/2 a head of cauliflower, chopped
1/2 a medium onion, chopped
1/4 cup mixed olives, pitted and diced
1 large or 2 small bay leaves
1/4 cup raisins
1 1/2 Tbs. garlic-infused olive oil
Sea salt and ground black pepper, to taste
small handful fresh parsley, minced
  • Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.  In an medium-size oven-proof casserole dish, pour in the orange juice.  Toss in the remaining ingredients, except the parsley. Cover with foil and transfer to the oven. 
  • Bake for about 40 minutes, or until the cauliflower is tender, but still a bit firm.
  • Take from the oven, uncover, and allow to cool down for a few minutes.  Stir in the parsley, and adjust seasoning as needed.
  • Serve warm or at room temperature.